


Emotional Politics and Strange Bedfellows

by britgeekgrrl



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mind Games, Non Consensual, Non-Canon Relationship, Revenge, Year That Never Was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britgeekgrrl/pseuds/britgeekgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite being in captivity, Jack does his best to make new friends while aboard the Valiant. Unfortunately, Lucy Saxon has a strange idea of what constitutes 'friendship'.</p><p>Set during Harkness year-in-hell aboard the Valiant. Minor spoilers for "The Sound of Drums" / "The Last of the Time Lords"</p><p>Nastily explicit bits in Chapter 2. Chapter 1 is tamer. Chapter 3 is merely smutty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Unbeta'd. Spellchecked, yes, but not beta'd as this is another one of those 'Desperately written to get it out of my head' fics. Originally pub'd on my fannish LJ in 2007

Now...

Jack returned to life with his usual abruptness. Only the memory of bullets tearing through him remained - that and a overwhelming anger.

 _You idiot, Jack_ , he thought. _You weren't the only surrogate in that relationship..._

 

***

Then...

"Look at him, love." Saxon gestured grandly, moving closer to Jack and dragging Lucy behind him. "Not so frightening, is he? A freak, but a harmless one - makes me wonder why the Doctor was so quick to leave you behind. You're _unpleasant_ , yes, but..." he grinned. "Potentially so very useful, too."

Jack hadn't liked the sound of that.

With a flourish, Saxon produced a long, thin-bladed knife from inside his suit. For a moment, he admired how the light played along it, and then sinuously stepped around and behind Lucy, dropping the knife into her right hand and wrapping his left arm around her waist.

Lucy regarded the knife, uncertainly, and it seemed to Jack that she wriggled for just a moment against her husband's grasp.

"Don't be a silly goose." he chided softly, wrapping his right hand over his, ensuring that her hold on the knife remained firm. "It's really very simple." He insisted.

Lucy's mouth trembled for a moment, until Saxon whispered something in her ear. Jack couldn't hear it over the engine noise but, whatever it was, it strengthened her resolve.

"Right there." Saxon murmured, guiding her close. "Just like I said."

Jack tried to back away, but the chains only allowed him so much movement. The tip of the knife caught on his shirt, between the third and fourth ribs.

"Come on," Jack protested. "I like this shirt. It's the only one I have."

"Harry can get you another," Lucy decided. "He gives me all sorts of clothes."

Irritation flashed in Saxon's eyes for a moment, but his voice belied it. "That's because I like it when you look pretty for me, my love. I'm afraid that handsome Jack, here, will have to take his chances. Now, no more delays."

Jack felt the knife push against his skin for just a moment, then hesitate.

"Why are you doing this?" He addressed the question to Lucy.

"Harry says it's easy to kill," Lucy replied, brightly. "He snaps his fingers and thousands die."

"I want her to share my interests, freak." Saxon snapped. "Now, Lucy. Do it _now_." The Master's voice suggested all sorts of consequences for disobedience.

Eyes wide, as if shocked at her audacity, Lucy shoved the knife deep into Jack's body, and right into his heart. Before the blackness overcame him - mercifully swiftly - he heard Lucy's voice. She sounded disappointed.

"See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"Oh." Lucy sounded disappointed. "There's not much blood..."

 

\---

Jack blinked and rolled his head about on his shoulders, making sure they myriad pieces were back where they belonged. Besides, it was just about the only form of movement available to him, chained as he was, so he figured he might as well make use of it.

 

"Are you afraid that you might not come back... properly?" Lucy Saxon looked like a child asking where the family goldfish had gone.

"There's a first time for everything." Jack tried to sound casual. Why give someone the satisfaction of knowing that they were getting to you? "Although I wouldn't mind there being a _last_." Jack admitted. Lucy had lately acquired a deep curiosity about casual murder, and Jack was the ideal educational aide, she had decided. "I don't suppose I could convince you to take up knitting?"

"Harry wanted me to share his interests," Lucy sighed, looking a little nonplussed.

"But he's not here, now." Which Jack supposed he should consider a sort of mercy. God only knew what Saxon might encourage his wife to do.

Lucy stared at Jack, her eyes wide and solemn. "I don't think he likes you very much."

 _Big surprise_. "That's okay. I like me enough for both of us." Jack took a deep breath and added with uncharacteristic hesitancy. "I like _you_ , too."

Lucy looked shocked and then laughed. "Really?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Even after... this?" She waved the length of electrical cord recently employed as a garrote.

"Yeah, even after _that_. I get better, eventually. But I don't get much company, and you're the only person who talks to me," Jack admitted.

"What about... that girl? The one who feeds you?"

"Tish? She's too scared of your husband to say anything."

Lucy frowned, suddenly withdrawing into herself.

"But you're braver than she is." Jack insisted, then added with a smile. "Prettier, too."

She cheered visibly at that. "Yes, I am, aren't I?"

"Totally."

Lucy grew suspicious. "Why are you being nice to me? You shouldn't be nice. I'm _horrible_ to you. I'm a horrible person." Her voice wavered, uncertain. "Horrible and ugly and _stupid_."

"That's not true. I've been all over time and space, had _all_ sorts of things happen to me - get done to me," he couldn't help a slightly bragging tone, "And believe me, they were done by much uglier, much stupider beings. And horrible? Don't get me started."

Lucy almost smiled at that, but it didn't last. "I should go. Harry... wouldn't like it."

"Don't. Please." As soon as he said, Jack realized it was a mistake. The vestiges of sanity - and pity - drained away from Lucy's face. She stared at Jack for almost a minute, pulling at the length of cord still in her hands, violently twisting it. Without another word, she turned and ran.

\---

"That's a new dress." Jack told Lucy, three days later. It was a long summer dress, a bright print of red and blue, with a halter neck and gathered skirt. "Very pretty, although I don't think it matches the decor." Jack glanced at the steam pipes and bare metal that surrounded them.

"Harry likes buying me clothes." Her voice was brittle, like her smile. "He's always giving me things."

"Like that?" Jack looked at Lucy's upper arm, at the bruises describing the shape of a hand that had grabbed too tightly. He frowned at the sight of it.

She noticed Jack's gaze, and her cheerful facade wavered, giving Jack a glimpse of misery and fear before she visibly pulled herself together.

"For better and for worse, Jack." she stated, before picking up a nearby wrench and bashing his skull in.

 

\---

Dying of thirst was one of Jack's least favorite ways to die, but as he had been left alone - completely alone - for over two weeks, he didn't have much choice. No guards, no Tish, not even Lucy.

Jack contemplated the ceiling - it was more interesting than the floor - for the umpteenth time and wished he could slash an artery with his teeth. Anything to avoid feeling his blood gelatinizing in his veins again.

A door clanged open, taking Jack's attention from the ceiling. Lucy Saxon strolled in, carrying a small hamper. Without a word, she sat down on the floor - just beyond Jack's reach, assuming he had the strength to kick anything over - and set out a red-check tablecloth, a sealed Tupperware-type container, a loaf of French bread and several large bottles of water.

Jack tried not to stare at this strange picnic, and failed.

Lucy uncapped a bottle of water, and pulled some roast chicken out of the Tupperware tub, placing it carefully on a paper plate. She sliced some bread and, returning to the hamper, found a jar of mayonnaise and a plastic knife. Being careful to avoid getting grease on her fingers, she made a simple sandwich.

"Hungry?"

Jack nodded, but his eyes were riveted on the water bottles.

"Oh!" She put the sandwich aside and picked up a bottle.

At first, Jack feared that Lucy was just expanding her repertoire into full-blown torture but, to his surprise, she let him drain the bottle dry, and half of another, before feeding him half a sandwich. She continued like this until the provisions were gone, not saying a word.

Jack sighed, feeling some energy return. He didn't know why, frozen in time as he was, he still needed to eat and drink but that was time for you. Linear but illogical.

"Thank you." He said, warily.

Lucy packed up the remains of the meal, carefully fastidious. "I missed you." she whispered, more at the hamper than to Jack.

Jack shook his head, not sure that he'd just heard her correctly. "What?"

She smothered her admission with anger. "I was bored of seeing you starve." she snapped. "It was _boring_."

Jack didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry?"

Her mood changed with frightening speed. She accepted the apology with bonhomie. "That's alright, Jack. No-one's perfect."

"In better circumstances," Jack shrugged as best he could. _When in doubt, flirt_. "I'm pretty good."

A gleam of conspirital delight appeared in Lucy's eyes. "I've heard the rumors. _Handsome Jack_ ," she said it in a remarkably accurate impersonation of Saxon's cadence. "He always says it like that. When he's not calling you a freak, that is."

"There's no arguing with the truth." Jack admitted. "It could have been worse. Imagine being an _ugly_ freak. I'd have to make my living at a carnival - wait, I _did_ for a while, scratch that."

"And now you're being silly." Lucy chided, apparently enjoying Jack's babble.

"It's something to do." Jack decided to take a risk. "But if you're in a good mood?" he summoned up his most potent puppy-eyed expression, which had been known to have a significant area of effect under the right circumstances.

Lucy might have known better, but she wasn't immune to Harkness trying to be his best. "What?"

"Come here." Jack didn't _quite_ flutter his eyelashes, but it was a near thing.

Lucy took a step towards him, then hesitated. "I'm not going to unchain you." she warned him.

"I'm not asking you for that." Jack spoke quietly, forcing Lucy to come closer, just to hear him. "Just come here and I'll tell you. Please?" he wheedled.

 _That_ did the trick. How often did Lucy have someone beg _her_ for something? She moved towards him, close enough for him to whisper in her ear.

Instead of speaking, he kissed Lucy's neck - just once, very gently.

She jumped as if she'd received an electric shock. She stared at him, consternation and suspicion fighting for dominance in her expression.

"Please don't get mad." the words tumbled quickly out of Jack's mouth. "You've been nice to me and so I wanted to be nice to you. My options are kinda limited, so..."

Lucy's eyes narrowed. She slapped Jack - not very hard, but hard enough to sting. "Still think I'm nice?" She demanded, looking uncertain.

Jack's mind raced. "Yes."

"I... I _hurt_ you and you think I'm _nice_?" her voice rose, incredulous.

"Yes!" Jack insisted. "Even when you're hurting me, you show some mercy. It's quick and clean. I told you before, I know a lot of nasty ways to die. You haven't come close." _Please don't ask me to describe any of them_ , Jack thought, fervently. "And then _that_ ," he indicated the picnic hamper with a nod. "You might show it a little differently but, yes, I like you. Besides," he added, lamely. "You're the only company I have."

"Any attention is better than none?" It wasn't a sneer - just a question.

Jack looked ashamed. "I suppose so," he muttered.

Lucy raised her hand again, and Jack flinched. She looked satisfied, and, instead, stroked his face with a gentle touch. "So that's what it feels like." She mused.

Several seconds ticked by as Lucy - Jack hesitated to consider the expression on her face as _thoughtful_ , as her gaze seemed focused on the middle distance, but he supposed she must have been lost in thought.

Abruptly, some sort of conclusion was reached. "Alright, Jack." She announced. "I'll let you be nice to me, as long as I can be nice to you."

Jack tried not to worry _too_ much about that gleam in Lucy's eye...

\---

 

For the next several weeks, Jack took his cues from stories of undeservedly loyal dogs - the ones that always went back to their owner, no matter how terribly they were treated. Every one of Lucy's new dresses, each shiny new piece of jewelry earned some compliment from Jack - along with a significant glance at whatever bruises had prompted the present. Sometimes Lucy would let Jack 'kiss things better', without ever quite commenting (or perhaps even noticing) that Jack literally made things better. Not all of the bruises vanished, not so much that her husband might suspect anything, but enough so that she kept coming back.

Sometimes she would just leave, sometimes she'd kill him - some sort of twisted tit-for-tat, although Jack suspected it was part of her defense mechanism, a way to avoid feeling _too_ close to him, not matter what happened. Jack tried hard to maintain a certain equanimity, but it was difficult. But he took heart from the fact that the progress seemed generally upward - aside from the occasional death.

Jack gasped after catapulting back to consciousness from an encounter with the mains. Electrocution had become a favorite of Lucy's lately. She liked watching the anxiety on Jack's face as she approached his shackles with an exposed wire in hand. For his part, he'd long since gotten tired of the smell of burning skin.

Reaching desperately for some conversational gambit to stave off another bout, he said: "Your husband hasn't been around to gloat, lately. Busy, is he?"

Immediately, Jack berated his mouth for getting ahead of his brain as Lucy's unfocused amusement solidified into distinct dislike.

"I don't know. Ask Marie, or maybe Theresa. Or there's Emily." She snapped, throwing the wire aside - much to Jack's relief. Her decision to punctuate each name with a solid blow to his stomach was a veritable benediction, in comparison "Or Barbara, or Angela, or Heather." She scowled with effort. "Or Nicole, or _Ginger_." This last person seemed to be the object of particular dislike and Jack yelled as Lucy's heel came down on his instep, snapping several small bones. This broke Lucy out of her rhythm and she looked quizzically at him.

Jack knew what to say. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he insisted. "He's awful to you. I shouldn't have asked."

"He _is_ awful," Lucy admitted, suddenly on the verge of tears. "And _I'm_ awful." Realization of some new idea crept on to her face. "And so are _you_ , trying to take me away from him. How could you?"

 _Oh, shit_. Jack had hoped this wouldn't happen. "Lucy-"

She hit him again. "Shut up! How could you?" She repeated, hitting Jack over and over again. "How could you?"

Jack shouted at her, trying to penetrate her hysteria. "I love you!"

 _That_ stopped her cold, as Jack hoped it would. "What?" she sniffed as she wiped her eyes.

"I love you." He insisted. "And I want to get us out of here. That's why."

She stared at Jack, confused. Finally, she stepped up to him, as if suddenly afraid of being overheard. "Both of us?" she whispered. "How?"

Jack rubbed his cheek against hers. "I have an idea. Listen..."

 

***

Saxon lounged against a convenient bulkhead, looking for all the world as if he was simply out and about, enjoying an afternoon's stroll.

"Is this the best you could do, Jack? Take the wife hostage and try to bargain your way out of here?"

Jack bit back a curse. "It seems to be working, so far." Indeed, they'd made it past two levels of security, already. Saxon's potential wrath would be bad enough, without bearing the responsibility for killing his wife, as Jack had gambled.

Saxon was apparently unconcerned. "So kill her," he suggested.

"Jack, don't." Lucy's voice trembled.

"I'm not kidding."Jack's grip tightened on the purloined firearm in his hand. "I'll do it." he insisted, trying to overcome the growing seed of doubt planted by Saxon's insouciance. What did Saxon know that he didn't?

Jack heard feet running down the corridor. With a sinking feeling, he watched half a dozen guards come up behind Saxon and flank him, their guns pointing at Jack.

"Did Lucy happen to mention that she told me all, last night?"

Jack stared at the Time Lord, not wanting to believe what he heard. "What the hell?"

"I know my wife very well. I suppose you thought that you were just some sort of punching bag for her, someone she could hit back." He appeared unashamed by the implication. "But you were only half right."

" _You_ were right, darling." Lucy's voice rang with a fervor Jack hadn't heard in months as she addressed her husband. "He _is_ stupid."

"Just like you." Jack muttered.

"Yes, Just like you." Saxon parroted, looking at his wife. "But Lucy has already made her big decision for the day - whether or not to support me. Now it's your turn. Can you come here, Lucy?"

Saxon's wife struggled and squirmed, but couldn't break free of the grip Jack stubbornly maintained. She shook her head.

"There you have it, Jack. I can tell them," he looked at the guards, "To shoot right now. _You'll_ live on, in your freakish way, but she won't. Get yourself a bit of revenge, at least."

"Harry!" Lucy shrieked, astounded. Saxon merely shook his head, waving off her concern.

 _That_ did it. With a grimace of disappointment, Jack shoved Lucy towards her husband and dropped his gun. Murder for survival, Jack could understand - but killing for revenge, he couldn't.

"You see, my pet." Saxon wrapped an arm around Lucy, who flinched slightly at his touch. "I told you that he wouldn't be able to do it. He's been around The Doctor too long."

Jack spoke to Lucy, not sure where the words came from. "I treated you better than he does. Even like _this_. He's willing to kill you, I'm not."

"A touch of Stockholm syndrome, Jack?" Saxon looked at him, curiously. "It doesn't matter." He spoke to the security personnel. "Get him back to his cell, I don't care how."

Lucy flinched at the sound of gunfire. Saxon led her away from Jack's body, which the guards were already dragging down the corridor. "There, there, pet. Everything will be better from now on, I promise. And I think that you deserve a _special_ treat. How do you feel about Ginger snaps..?"

***

Now.

Jack grimaced and wondered by what cosmic device his clothes always regenerated along with his body. It wasn't like he had much modesty to protect...

He sighed. He should have realized that Lucy's betrayal was inevitable. She'd taken on too much of Saxon's role in her abuse of him to let Jack win - even at the cost of her own freedom.

A familiar figure appeared at the hatchway, accompanied by a pair of guards. Tish Jones, clad in a bedraggled maid's uniform, kept her eyes downcast and pretended not to listen as Jack dodged a spoonful of boiled mush and began to speak.

"I just wasted four months trying to fool Lucy." Jack said quietly. "Here's why you shouldn't bother trying to do it, yourself..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week after a failed escape attempt, Jack gives in to the temptation to do something very stupid during a conversation with Harry Saxon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not an additional chapter so much as a follow-up to "Emotional Politics..." but so closely tied in that it's best served up with the prequel.

One week later, the monotony of Jack's daily routine - listening for changes in the Valiant's engines, making obscene suggestions to the security guards and hoping for a fire alarm so that he could take a shower, of sorts, under the sprinkler system - was broken by two visitors.

Lucy Saxon had taken to wearing her hair down, and very loose. In other circumstances, Jack would have complimented her on it, but those circumstances were long passed. Harry Saxon was, unsurprisingly, his usual dapper self.

Lucy approached Jack tentatively, like a house-cat who isn't quite sure about what it heard rustling in the bushes. She looked at her husband, letting him do the talking.

"Still love her, freak?" Saxon's regarded Jack with contempt.

Jack took a deep breath and tasted adrenaline in the air - mostly Lucy's, much to his surprise. He wondered what she was scared of, beyond the obvious. He thought about it for a moment and an idea occurred to him. The rational part of his mind suggested that it probably wasn't a good idea but his anger and frustration at what had happened - and what had failed to happen - boiled over.

"Oh yeah," Jack smiled. "Your wife is pretty _lovable_." The look he gave her stopped _just_ short of an outright leer.

"Jack..." Lucy warned, inching away from her husband. Saxon looked from her to Jack and back again, eyes narrowed.

Jack drew the words out, maximizing their impact. "Did it come up during her confession that I fucked your _dear_ , _faithful_ wife, last week?"

"No!" Lucy looked shocked. "It's not true!"

Jack relished the surprise on Saxon's face. "Oh, I'm sure she didn't _mean_ to, Harry. But we needed a premise to get me out of these," he rattled the chains that shackled him, "Just a bit of back story, just in case. But once she got me down..." he grinned lasciviously. It was the sort of smile that had gotten him assaulted by a variety of outraged beings, and it had much the same effect on Harold Saxon.

He stared at Jack, scowling angrily. Jack felt the Time Lord trying to reach into his mind - and sensed his frustration at being denied entrance. There were some advantages to being a fixed point in time and effectively dead. Some of those advantages were more subtle than others.

Thwarted, Saxon grabbed Lucy by the hair and by the throat, cutting off her stream of denials. "Tell me." he growled.

Jack knew what Saxon would find in Lucy's memory, and he supposed that he should feel sorry for her, but lingering anger burned that incipient regret out of him.

"Bitch!" Saxon had found the answer he sought. He threw Lucy to the ground as easily as a child dropping a toy doll. He advanced on Jack, murderous intent writ large.

"I guess she has a thing for _freaks_." Jack taunted. "But don't be mad. It wasn't so great." Jack pulled a face. "She tasted of _you_. Yuk." If Jack was about to suffer a spectacularly unpleasant death, as he suspected was the case, he thought he might as well get full value from it.

Saxon stood centimeters away from Jack, glaring at him and breathing hard. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he calmed down. He even smiled a little.

Jack felt suddenly anxious. Being kicked to death in a vicious rage, he could handle, in his way. But _this_ had the signs of something unexpected, and unexpected would almost certainly mean _more unpleasant than usual_.

"Nonsense," Saxon said lightly, as if they were debating something trivial.

Saxon looked around and spotted something of interest out of Jack's sight, something he decided to fetch: a wrench. In the half-light, Jack spotted a tuft of hair adhered with old blood. _Great_ , he sighed, recognizing it. _At least it should be quick_. He knew, already, how heavy it was.

The wrench slammed into Jack's face. Several blows of almost superhuman strength landed in quick succession, precisely placed against mouth and jaw.

Pain quickly overwhelmed Jack's surprise - pain and a sinking feeling that he knew what was about to happen. He wanted to choke on blood and teeth, leave consciousness behind, but his survival instinct didn't care about anything beyond _right now_ , and so he coughed and spat on to the floor. Blood continued to fill his mouth, spilling on to his shirt past half-numb lips.

Saxon surveyed Jack's injuries with a detached expression, and then swung the wrench twice more, just to be sure.

"Nonsense." Saxon repeated, dropping the steel tool and heading for a nearby control panel.

Jack winced as his chains abruptly went slack, and he fell to his knees on to a puddle of blood and broken teeth. He lunged towards Saxon as he came within reach, only realize that the chains had merely been run out a couple of feet, not released entirely - just enough to put him on his knees.

Saxon kicked Jack in the chest and then tutted at a resultant stain on his shoe. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Lucy had stayed where he'd put her, on the floor, and nodded. Everything was in its proper place.

He squatted down in front of Jack, and grabbed him by the hair, forcing eye contact. "How could you be so stupid?" he asked, half laughing and apparently without a care in the world - although a twitching muscle in his jaw suggested otherwise.

Jack realized that Saxon was unbuttoning his trousers as he spoke and everything became clear. He spat on Saxon's pristine white shirt, which was just about all he could do at that point. Inwardly, he seethed with anger - at himself. He shouldn't have succumbed to temptation.

The Master ignored Jack's defiant gesture and, with an ease of movement that suggested this was nothing new, forced Jack's battered mouth on to his cock. Blood, spit and a complete disregard for a gag reflex - or even Jack's need to breathe - made it that much easier. Reflexively, Jack tried to bite, only to learn that Saxon had done a thorough job of destroying his only defense.

"As I'm sure you'll notice, freak," Saxon said a little breathlessly. "Lucy and I taste _nothing_ alike."

Jack screwed his eyes shut and did what he hoped was the most annoying thing possible. He went limp. It wasn't easy, almost choking on the cock of someone so despised, but Jack did his best, slumping against the chains and keeping his mouth slack. Saxon twisted his hand in Jack's hair, almost tearing it out by the roots. "Don't," he warned, "Or I'll do this to luscious Ms. Tish, next."

 _Shit_. Jack couldn't take the chance that Saxon meant it. He shifted a little, and braced himself against the onslaught. If he was lucky, maybe his mouth would heal before The Master came.

But luck wasn't on Jack's side. The sight of Jack bruised, bloody and on his knees had an aphrodisiac effect on Saxon and in less that a minute, Jack felt Saxon's cock swell and spurt in the back of his throat. Jack gagged and tried not to swallow. For some reason, that would have been adding insult to injury. He spat on the deck, even as his chains jerked him back to his feet.

Jack glared at Saxon. He didn't want to give the Time Lord the satisfaction of seeing anything but anger and defiance from him.

Saxon shrugged with the ease of a man who knew he'd just won a fight. He grabbed Lucy - wide-eyed, silent and stinking of fear - and hauled her to her feet. "Come along, darling. We need to discuss your _shocking_ taste in lovers." He announced, dragging her away.

Jack watched them go, trying to ignore the pricklings of conscience. He spat another mouthful of blood to the floor and twitched involuntarily as flesh knitted back into shape, but it was only a momentary distraction. He sighed. He shouldn't have given in to the temptation for revenge. Jack prided himself on resiliency, on an ability to come back from anything - even before Rose and the Tardis changed him apparently forever. But Lucy? He shook his head.

 _I'm not going to feel sorry for her, damn it. I'm not!_

But the doubt lingered.


	3. Starting Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto is rather disappointed by the state of his relationship with Jack after his escape from the Valiant. Then he learns what's wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My attempt at rebooting a series of Toppy!Ianto stories that were eating my head at the time. Alas, the muse packed up and left after this one outing...

"Are you going to be alright?" Ianto winced as soon as he uttered the words. Talk about stupid questions - but he couldn't help asking.

"I'm fine. Or I will be." Jack snapped, taking his irritation out on Ianto. "Sorry." he sighed. "Mental note for next time: even baby Terraxes are a handful. I shouldn't have let the rest of the team go home, I guess."

"They're still exhausted from Nepal. They wouldn't have been much help." Ianto commented, painfully aware of the softball-sized wound at Jack's waist. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, but it still looked terrible - like a badly cut steak. The young Terraxe - a six-legged lizard about the size of a beagle - had managed to wreak a lot of damage with just one bite. Fortunately, it had been so distracted with trying to make a meal of Jack that Ianto was able to immediately incapacitate it with a stun-gun. Understandably vexed, Jack had shot the alien creature before it could renew its attack, and now all that remained was was to take the carcass to the Hub for incineration.

"I don't understand how you're up and about, still." Jack admitted.

"Melatonin." Ianto shrugged. "And a lot of coffee." The fact that Jack's return had boosted Ianto's spirits like a tonic helped, too, but he was embarrassed to admit it. The rest of the crew, meanwhile, did their best to fight jet-lag, irritation and general weariness until Jack ordered them go home, shortly after lunch. Naturally, that was a full hour before the call came in to deal with the latest offering from the Rift.

Irrepressibly, Ianto took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at Jack. It's probably not as bad as it looks, he thought, trying to believe that. True, Jack didn't seem too uncomfortable, although he fidgeted quite a bit as Ianto drove them back to the Hub.

"Are you sure-"

"Jesus, Ianto! Yes!" Jack drummed his fingers on the windowsill. "I'm okay. Better than okay. Great, in fact." He insisted - immediately belying his words with a scowl. "Half an hour and I'll be ready to do the laundry - although I think the shirt's a write-off." He sighed. "I liked this shirt."

This time, Ianto managed a small smile. Jack having his shirt ruined led to thoughts of a shirtless Jack which led to... the fact that Jack had been strangely unenthusiastic, of late, despite the fact that he'd apparently been away from the Hub - from me, Ianto thought - for over a year.

If there was one adjective that Ianto thought he'd never apply to Jack Harkness, it was frigid. Ianto shook his head, mentally. That wasn't the right word. Disinterested would be a better fit, or even disengaged. Ianto knew that a hell of a lot more had happened during Jack's time away beyond "The world ended, but then it didn't. I helped. There was a lot of stuff in between, but that doesn't matter." but that was as much as he was willing to say at the moment. Ianto knew that Jack wouldn't respond to pushing, so he didn't push. All he could do was wait, as usual - wait and try not to take out his irritation on Jack, himself.

Therefore, after he'd parked the SUV and they were making their way out of the garage, Ianto was a little surprised when Jack positively lunged at him and kissed him with such ferocious need as to make the course of the foreseeable future quite obvious.

For one dizzy moment, Ianto almost let passion take control of the situation. He could hardly refuse Jack at any time, but Ianto's conscience asserted itself.

"Jack," he warned, trying to catch his breath and glad that the fender of the SUV digging into his back provided a sharp counterpoint to the signals coming from his groin. "Let's get you seen to, first, alright?"

Jack muttered something that Ianto didn't quite catch, but it was clearly a refusal as he kissed Ianto's neck and pulled impatiently at his shirt.

Ianto's resolve started to crumble. Jack clearly seemed alright - better than usual, in fact - and given his ability to shrug off injury and, oh god, Jack was sucking on his earlobes in that way that drove him mad...

Casting caution aside, Ianto joined Jack in a hasty frenzy of unbuttoning and shoving-aside of inconvenient bits of clothing. A small assortment of shirts and jackets fell onto the concrete floor.

Inevitably, Ianto's fingers brushed the edges of the gash in Jack's side - now smaller than it had been, but still palpably unpleasant. Jack inhaled sharply, and Ianto started to apologize, when he received another surprise.

Jack grabbed Ianto's hand and pressed it against the bloody injury. For one confused moment, Ianto thought that Jack was worried about the bleeding. Then he felt Jack's hard-on grinding against him, practically humping his leg, as he pushed Ianto's hand against his skin - into the wound. Meanwhile, Jack wrapped an arm around Ianto's waist and continued doing things to his neck and ears that threatened to make him weak at the knees.

But lust couldn't overwhelm everything. Ianto tried to pull away, but was hindered by the SUV at his back. "Jack?" He asked, only to be ignored. He raised his voice. "Jack!"

"What?" Jack stared at him, startled. His face was flushed and attention was clearly divided as he continued to move, almost absent-mindedly, against his partner.

"What the hell is this?" Ianto tried to pull his hand free, but Jack reminded him that he was stronger than he looked. "Why are you doing this?" Unable to get away, Ianto wriggled his hand slightly.

Jack groaned - not from the pain, Ianto realized with a growing feeling of dread - and then did something that Ianto had never seen before.

Jack Harkness blushed. He looked embarrassed and, in fact, slightly nervous. Belatedly, he released his grasp on Ianto's hand.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, looking ashamed. Ianto sensed that Jack wanted to leave - regardless of being half naked - and he put a stop to that by firmly latching a couple fingers around one of the belt-loops on Jack's trousers. Jack loved those trousers, almost as much as the shirt.

"For what?" Ianto demanded.

Jack struggled for words. "I didn't mean to... I should have..." He frowned. "Remember how I said a lot of things happened on the Valiant? This," he poked at the wound and shivered slightly, biting his lip. "Was one of them. I've become the ultimate masochist." Jack tried to make a joke of it, but he just sounded hollow. It was hard to joke with the memory of The Master's voice ringing in his ears.

Ianto stared at him, speechless for just a moment, before a sense of righteous anger manifested.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded.

"Who do you think?" Jack sighed. "And he's dead and gone, so you can forget about revenge."

"Can't you be fixed?"

"I'm not broken!" Jack snapped, and then shrugged. "I'm just...different. As usual."

Ianto tried not to worry about what that implied, and failed. "But, Jack-"

Jack cut him off with another kiss - a brief, affectionate gesture, not the needy passion of a few minutes ago. Ianto couldn't help noticing that Jack's wound was almost entirely healed.

Jack looked at Ianto, trying not to hide anything. "I love you." he insisted. "I love you and I trust you." He added, a little plaintively. "I'm trusting you not to take advantage of this."

Suspicion took root in Ianto's mind, simultaneously to a very wicked part of his imagination waking up and suggesting a whole host of possibilities.

"You don't want to-" he caught himself before he said fixed again. "Change. Do you?"

"I don't think I can. Time Lords are pretty good at what they do." Jack seemed to believe it.

Ianto couldn't say much to that. His knowledge of Time Lord trickery was limited to what was listed in the Torchwood and UNIT archives. Instead, he shook his head and said something extremely rude in Welsh.

Jack pretended to be shocked. "Ianto Jones, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Ianto couldn't help smiling at that, just a bit. "Never you mind what I do with my mother." He lapsed into thought for a few seconds, and Jack gave him room - figuratively, if not literally. Finally, Ianto reached a decision. "Come on, let's go downstairs."

Jack raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question.

"I rather think the moment for a frantic shag on the bonnet's sort of passed, don't you?" Ianto said in a parody of his primmest manner. "And there's a perfectly good bed, downstairs. Not to mention a few of the toys I never had the nerve to show you." Jack visibly perked up at that. "But first..." Ianto wanted to laugh at how bloody British he felt, "But first, I think we need to brew up a pot of tea and sort a few things out. Like who's going to wash my shirt, for a start..."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to the special fanfic hell, aren't I?
> 
> Strangely enough, I'm not usually a fan of honest-to-god non-con (versus the more prevalent 'oh noes! Don't throw me in the briar patch!' non-con that one sees here and there), and it's something I've only written (*thinks*) once before in nearly 20 years of word-bashing1. Smashed teeth are a major squick of mine, so where the above came from, I'm not sure.
> 
> But, if I had to place blame for the above on a particular plot bunny, it would be the line _Lucy and I taste nothing alike_ , which fell into my head some time ago - during an early draft of _Emotional Politics_ , in fact - around which the scene was built.
> 
> Source aside, I don't know about you lot, but I feel like I need to soak my keyboard (and my frontal lobes) in bleach. _And_ I owe my inner Jack a whole heap of cheerful PWP for the stuff I've been doing to him, this week. Especially as there's still two more bits in the works...
> 
> 1 \- twice if you want to stretch a point and squint, but as I believe that only 3 other people in the entire web


End file.
